Me And The Devil
by SilvertoLead
Summary: It's been two months since the events in Manhattan, and something isn't right with the world. There's something kidnapping people. Something's possessing them. Nick Fury is gathering the Avengers; starting with Tony Stark; to try to put a stop to this. But he knows they're out of their depth; and he's turned to someone he shouldn't have. Never make deals with Mischief. [FrostIron]
1. Unnatural Disquiet

"Hello, boys."

_Fuck._

* * *

Two months have ground by since the events in Manhattan. Everyone's gotten used to it, now; there's nothing new to report. The city's still in a state of seemingly constant repair; and, rather unsurprisingly, half the place is still in turmoil. Lots of buildings are owned by people that can't afford to repair them. Quite a couple of businesses have taken a financial hit in the events of the attack, and, quite a couple have gone out of functionality entirely. Smaller companies are, and have been, hit heavily, as the city has attempted to bring itself back.

Not to mention the fear. The world's been no stranger to the stranger, but, it's not exactly been such public knowledge that aliens exist like that. The events in New Mexico had been kept as quiet as possible; with good reason; and yes, not everyone was convinced by the story SHIELD had put out, but at least it would suffice for the time being.

Of course, not even SHIELD can hide it now.

There's life out there, and we're overpowered, 20 to 1.

And thanks to work with the Tesseract, and _failure_ with the Tesseract, it knows we're here, too.

Great.

Two months have gone by since then.

Something's different. Something's very different.

And not a good different, either.

There's an undeniable calm over the city, over the _continent_, over the _**world**_. There's something disrupting that calm.

But it feels like the calm before it storm.

Tony Stark was the first to feel this.

He may be the _last._

* * *

"Sir, Nick Fury is in the premises. He is here to see you."

Fury? What does he want?

After spending what seemed like an age fixing the panel of his suit that was faulty; working out it's bugs, defects, physical flaws; Tony's gotten to the point where he's relatively happy to continue. He doesn't like leaving this just half done, and he'll avoid that wherever possible. The room's kind of hot, actually. A thin shine coats the man's skin, head to toe, though more thickly on areas like the back of his neck or the span of his brow; and his hair is messy. Black smudges aren't uncommon on Tony today, it seems.

"Okay, fine, but before you let him in, I need a smoothie. Or a cola. Or a whiskey. Something cold, with, like, my weight in ice in it. It's literal sauna in here. JARV?"

"Very well, sir. The drinks machine is making one now."

Tony takes a final look over his work, before he gives a slight nod. Eh, it's alright. Not perfect, yet, but it's gonna need some time. 'Course it is. He decides to let the metal cool off, and takes a few strides to the in-built drink machine, and, near perfect in timing, it lifts up a glass. Iced coffee? Perfect. It's only like, what; 9 o'clock at night. Coffee's great for that time, clearly.

That also begs the question; what's Fury doing here so late?

He's in the lavish work room of his place in Malibu, of course. Where else could Tony Stark be found? Nowadays, he was pretty much buried in work. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, he read once; and he knows it. So he's been partying it up at the same time. He's living a pretty luxury life. Well, it would be better, if he wasn't suffering from these damn panic attacks

He's not gotten to the bottom of that. In fact, he's not told anyone. JARVIS knows, but then, JARVIS knows most things. And Pepper? Well, Pepper knows what she knows. Tony thinks he's rarely properly in the loop of her knowledge. But of course, he's like that with most women.

"Why's Fury here?"

May as well see if JARVIS knows anything.

"I do not know, sir. He has yet to make an appointment, and as far as we can be aware, Miss Potts has not been notified."

"Can we get Pepper on the line please? I'd rather not have chats with the man in charge if it means I have to make any kind of informed decision. I don't feel like it right now."

"Sir, I am more than positive she is asleep."

"What? Why? It's like… what time is it?"

"9 o'clock sir. And Miss Potts is currently abroad in the United Kingdom. The time for her will be 3 am."

Oh. Oh yeah. Now he remembers. He remembers getting her a bunch of flowers before she left, and he also remembers a particularly good night that night. A smirk at the thought, before it's quickly wiped from his face, when another voice rings from the door.

"Evening, Stark."

Oh, great.

"Hi, eye-patch. How's it hanging?"

Nick's in his usual gear, of course. The black leathers and that eyepatch never seem to change, and Tony, in a sense, is appreciative of that. He wouldn't ever voice those appreciations, but hey. At least he has them sub-consciously.

Spinning round to face him, the mechanic wipes sweat from his brow with a cloth, before sipping his iced coffee. "So what's this little late night meeting in aid of, hm? I'm kinda busy here. If that's not already… blatantly obvious."

"We have a problem, Tony. I won't beat around the bush. We need you, and the Avengers, to come in."

To that, Tony registers a flash of… something. Not exactly fear, but something like that. It seems like yesterday that he was telling JARVIS to put his all into the thrusters, locked in combat with literal aliens. And in all honesty, he found the whole thing… well, for lack of a better word, troubling. The sole cause of these damn panic attacks, and he knows it.

Nick looks deadly serious. A deadly serious Nick Fury is never, _ever_, something you should mess with. He takes a few steps in the room, the door swinging softly shut, and locks his hands behind his back.

"Isn't it a bit early to be getting back into the field?" Tony asks, gaze downward. He doesn't want this to be happening. He feels like pretending it's not. Fact is, that it is. Tony can't deny, not even to himself, that these possessions have been a rising issue.

_**I am death**__, cried the vulture. For the people of the light._

In the last month, odd things have been happening in the world. Unexplainable disappearances, of people totally unconnected in any way, be it race, sex, or age. All across the world. As of this second, there has been a record number of 24 different disappearances, completely spontaneous, and varying between countryside settings or towering skyscrapers. Of course, 24 reported. Unbeknown to the media, there's been at least over a hundred. And the numbers climbing. Fast.

"I think you know it's exactly the right time to get back in the field," Fury says, both sternly, and gravely. He's staring hard at Tony, but Tony's unable to meet that, right now.

The mechanic only huffs.

"This about the possessions?"

_Caron brought his raft from the sea that sails on souls._

The director nods, slowly. "What else would it be about? Do you think we can handle this without the Avengers? Do you think you can sit by, and just, let this happen?"

"No, but at the same time-"

"I don't want to hear it, Tony," Nick half growls. "You saved the world three times before and you can damn sure do it again."

"Uh, actually, it's probably uncountable how many times I've saved the world."

The director very nearly snaps, but this is Tony Stark. He knows better. Instead, he stills his anger as much as possible, and moves to seat himself, on the nearest chair. "Do you know anything about them, then?"

_And I saw the scavenger departing, taking warm hearts into the cold._

Tony takes a longer sip of his drink, eyes still glazed over and misty on the floor. He's trying to put his emotion elsewhere right now, because the thought of anything supernatural happening, is spiking his anxiety.

"I know they're happening."

"That all?"

"Yep."

Nick watches him a moment, as if he doesn't believe him. Tony barely even believes himself, so it's not too much of a sin to doubt him.

"Well, here's the basics. We know that whatever is taking these people isn't doing this for any specific, Earth bound reason. We know that whatever is taking these people is doing it effortlessly, and leaving no trace, what, so, ever. Not a single FBI team has managed to get anything. No evidence. None at all. There's no recordings of CCTV, because every time there's a disappearance, the camera cuts out. There's nothing stopping what's taking these people, Tony, and the world's panicking. People are in a state of _panic_. Some villages are closing off from outsiders, some cults are preaching that it's a symbol of the Armageddon, and there's uproar in politics. What's taking these people is not a person, nor is it Earth bound. SHIELD believe that what's taking them, is some kind of demon. Hence why we have given them the term, 'the possessions'."

_In a wilderness of heart break, in a desert of despair,_

Tony nods, though he's not really listening after those two, final words. A demon. Possession. Anything otherworldly. Pulse rate quickening as his breaths turn shallow, he bites the inside of his cheek. He cannot have an attack. Not in front of Fury.

"A demon."

"Mmhmm."

_Evil's clarion of justice, shrieks a cry of naked terror,_

"What do we do?"

_Taking babies,_

"We gather the Avengers, and we put a stop to this."

_From their mamas,_

"What makes you so sure this can be stopped?"

_Leaving grief,_

"I'm not _sure_. I'm not _sure_ of _anything_ right now. But I'm doing all I can to try to protect these people. That's all we can ever do."

_Beyond,_

"This seems like a stupid idea."

_Compare._

Nick sits up, then; expression reading complete and utter anger. "And what ideas do you have, huh? You wanna share those with me?"

His mouth opens, as if to speak, but it closes shortly after, and Fury's happy about that.

In a bid to calm down, Tony is quiet a second, before he moves; stepping over to where Nick is, pulling up another chair, and sitting on it. Not once has he looked at Nick. Not since he first came in, and _definitely_ not since demons were mentioned.

Fury understands, of course. He knows Tony's got an issue with this kind of thing. He also knows that, without Tony, they don't stand much of a chance.

"We know we're outgunned to deal with this," Nick says, more quietly. "So we're getting help."

_So if you see the vulture coming,_

Finally, the mechanic looks up, and directly at him. Tony looks fearful. He can't hide that fear now. Not from Nick, and definitely not from himself.

"Help?"

_Flying circles in your mind,_

"Yep," Nick leans back. "I have had a conversation with Thor, and a few other Asgardians."

_Remember there is no escaping,_

As if unable to remove his gaze, he continues to stare at him, searching for some kind of reassurance in his words, and finding none. This doesn't feel right.

"And can Thor help us fix this demon crap?"

_For he will follow close behind,_

Nick nods. But there's a graveness to his nod.

"He says he can. But he also says, that he will need help from someone."

_Only promise me a battle,_

"And who's that someone?"

_A battle, for your soul and mind,_

"Loki."

_And mine._

_And mine._

shit.


	2. Insanium et Daemonum

Hello.

My name is Bune.

Stop reading.

No, seriously. I would advise you to stop reading. Quickly, and while you still have time. Don't look at another word. Not one more word. Are you hearing me? Not one.

You're still here. Why? Why are you waiting? I've told you what to do, I've told you already to stop. It isn't that difficult. Can you not abstain your curiosity for more than a minute just to save one more heart ache?

I'm not telling you this just so you will just disregard it so disrespectfully. How very stupid you humans are. If you stop reading, then you will be fine. You haven't signed the non-existent contract just yet, but you will, if you continue to read.

… still here?

I've _told_ you to leave.

…

Why is that so hard for you? Just to follow a simple instruction? One that could save both time and pain? Will you please believe me?! These words on this screen aren't worth risking all that for. _So stop reading_. Now! Just don't let your gaze go further. Just stop right **here**.

…

You're still reading? Really? Oh, for damnations sake. Idiocy and sheepishness run in your blood, don't they? Of course they do. Look, this isn't a joke, or anything. I'm not trying to hurt you. But you just need to stop reading. Stop reading, and no one is harmed. It's that simple. I will harm no soul. But that depends on you.

To just _stop reading_.

* * *

…

Lord help them all, then.

Well, I suppose I ought to explain a thing or two then, hmm? You look like you're going to stick around a little while longer. Though you really should leave.

_Is it so hard to close this tab? Close your internet browser? Surely there are other things you could be doing with your time?!_

That was worth a shot, don't you think?

I told you my name is Bune.

Do you know who I am?

Do you have some idea?

I would hope you do, otherwise, I fear, you may not have been paying enough attention. My _my_, you _are_ curious, and yet, so unobservant.

I am a demon.

Or, more specifically, the demon responsible for these 'possessions' as SHIELD are dubbing them. How accurate. Though in effect, I do not possess them myself-

Oh-! I really ought to not let so much information slip. How very careless of me.

Do you see what I mean, now?

The more you read, the further this story develops. And I really don't think you want that.

How about we end this here? How about you stop right

**HERE**.

* * *

…

I wouldn't call what I feel right now disappointment, just pure irritation.

Yes. You irritate me. You, the reader, right there. Sat on your chair, or your bed, or your living room couch; eyes glued to the screen, wanting not to be taken away. You spend a lot of your time doing that, don't you? Just… staring. So meaningless, isn't it? You have other things you could be continuing with. Important things.

Such _procrastination_.

I believe **sloth** is a sin.

I also believe, that _I_ told _you_ to _stop reading_.

What happened there?

Did you decide you wanted to know more? Were you not satisfied with the information I gave?

Now **that** is _greedy_.

**Greed**, is _also_ a sin.

Where I come from, sin, is the air we breathe. Although, air, in Hell, is a choking, sulphuric, pungent aroma, it is still able to be inhaled. By demons.

Yes, I am a demon. I hope you remembered.

The named me Bune, the 26th spirit. I am an Arch Duke of Hell itself, famed with pain and damnation, and I command over 30 legions of demons.

There are many of us. Of demons, that is. There isn't ever enough, and yet, I keep creating more… you would think Lucifer would be satisfied by now.

Oh. I'm letting information slip again. Silly me.

Perhaps now would be a good time to stop reading? As I did warn you to?

It actually isn't as hard as you might think it is.

Or you might say it is.

Or complain it is.

Just…

Stop.

Do it gently if you will.

Slowly, gradually,

After reading these final few words,

You,

Will,

_Stop._

* * *

…

You're still here.

I'm about done with you, if I am to be honest. I've told you to stop.

Well, poor them, then. You have read enough to convince me of what I will do.

I rather enjoy being merciless, so thank you, reader. You've given me the desire to destroy again.

That is what we demons do. Destroy.

No, Angels don't exist. Well, they do; but they aren't exactly here right now. Why? Because their God gave up on them, _and_ on the humans. I would too, if I saw my creation begin to destroy itself. You humans fell cultures, partake in wars, loathe one another; you kill each other like cattle.

You are no better than us, down here.

Well, except, He expected more of you. I, myself, expected nothing. Which is why it should be an honour to reside in Hell.

O Hell, thou art a cruel mistress.

It would provide shelter to the homeless, food for the hungry; essentially, Hell, is the place to be. You should come here for a holiday sometime. You won't want to leave. You might even move here.

And die here.

But it's okay. We bring you back. We always bring you back.

But we slaughter you straight after.

So much fun, is it not?

So _that's_ why you should stop reading.

…

_Because_, you insolent human being, I have the power to drag anyone I want to the Pit. You know what that _means_, don't you?

Well, it's too soon to explain what it means just now.

You've already read enough.

No, you cannot go back. You have, as I said before, given me incentive. I was lying before, but I'm not, now. I have a few ideas.

This is going to be fun.

I do hope they guard themselves well. The Avengers.

Yes, I know of that 'do-good boy band' and their red haired she-wolf.

I did tell you to stop. I **did** _try_.

Maybe I should burn them all.

Maybe I should burn _it_ all.

Maybe, one day,

I'll make them burn it themselves.

Maybe they already are.

One things for sure, however.

_You_ are burning them.

You're reading it. It's being made real in your mind. Pain and suffering and hurt is all real now, because it's making it so within your mind. So it's _your fault_.

I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry.

Was it such a _big thing_ to ask of you, to _stop reading_?


	3. Plunging to Black

"You will _all_ _**fall**_ **before** me…"

"Deploy- DEPLOY!"

_**Smash.**_

"Mr Stark?"

"Ah-… wh-…"

A car. That's the first thing Tony registers. He's in a car.

Suit, check. Cream today? Huh. He was in a grey suit mood, but whatever. Hair? Well, he could only hope it looked presentable. He didn't have time to fix it. Shaking back into reality from another vividly realistic dream of his, he glances to his side. It's another guard. Just a nameless guy, friendly looking; he's in a suit too, and he looks relatively concerned.

"You doing okay, sir?" he asks. He's only young, it seems, and looks like he's barely used to sharing the back seat with a billionaire. But then, who is?

Tony nods brusquely, waving his hand up in slight dismissal. "Yeah. Fine. Having a little pre-planned shut eye. It's cool."

What's not cool, is the repeated dreams he's been having on that fateful day in Stark Tower.

Even now, in the realm of the conscious, he can still feel the God of Mischief's grip, tight and choking, around his neck. He feels like it's always there. Like it's been burned into him. He wouldn't be surprised if it was, to be honest; this is Loki, he's thinking about.

If anyone knew about these dreams… he wouldn't know how to cope. Thank God no one reads minds around here.

Again, he wouldn't be surprised if someone did.

As the guard opts to remain quiet after, seeing as how Tony doesn't look like he wants a chat, he sits back in his seat, gaze on his knees. Tony, however, is too busy looking outside.

New York? Why's he in New York?

"Uh…" the man begins, slowly regaining his senses from the bout of sleep that had moments before sprung on him. "Why am I in New York?"

"A SHIELD meeting, sir," he's answered with, however, it's not from the guy next to him. Another guy in the front seat says it. How many guys are there? One look over the car, and it's apparent that there's three of them. He doesn't need this many, surely. It feels like he's some regular political figure, being transported, from one city, to another, and it feels irritating. He's Tony Stark. He's Iron Man. He doesn't need all this attention.

Unless someone asked for this attention to be there.

Fury. This has got to be something to do with Fury.

"That sounds… oh god, I'm bored already. Can we stop off for iced coffee? Its like a million degrees in here."

That it is. Or, at least, it feels like. The others in the car look confused a moment, and Tony notices.

"What? You don't think it's hot? What are you guys, immune to heat? It's boiling in here. Open a window."

He doesn't normally sound so demanding, and why's he's being like that, he's unsure. Of course, it's all just anxiety. He doesn't like the mere thought of what happened in Stark Tower with Loki, let alone the vivid reinacting of it in his mind. The guards are quick to respond, however, and press a few buttons, allowing the windows to ease down. A breeze rolls in, however minimal it is, being in the city, and it's not too terribly appreciated, but at least it could act to cool him down.

"So how long until we get to SHIELD headquarters?" he asks.

"About 45 minutes, sir. You may want to continue sleeping. It could be a while yet.

"

_Hell I don't._

"Nah, I'll stay awake, thanks. So we can't stop off for ice cream? Come on, it's on me. Please?"

The driver's hesitant, and looks to his comrade beside him, who shakes his head.

"I'm sorry sir, but we've got express orders to keep you in the car at all times."

Tony frowns, then. He's not some caged hamster, he's Tony fucking Stark, for Christ's sake. What the Hell is Fury up to? Keeping him under lock and key like this? Well, it feels that way to Tony. Fucking Hell.

"And who gave you these orders?"

"Director Fury, sir."

_Well, of course he did._

"Crying out loud," he mutters to himself, head falling back against the seat, rolling to the side so he can glare out the window. If only Pepper was here. At least he'd have her to talk to. "Just… step on it, yeah? I don't wanna be locked up in here for the rest of my life."

"Understood, sir."

* * *

It's a good hour later before they finally roll up in SHEILD base. Tony's livid that it took them that long, to be honest, and he's still boiling, but at least he's out the car now. Escorted through the tall, sleek building, [that's not a patch on Stark Tower in his opinion], Tony can't help but feel like there's eyes on him. He feels uneasy in this place, and why, he's not so sure.

It feels like something in here is going to give him a full on panic attack. He cannot let the others see that. If anyone finds out about these crippling attacks, he'll go mad.

"Yeah, yeah, I can find my own way around here, thanks," the billionaire growls at some woman, as she attempts to show him what door goes where, guiding him around like a tourist. He hates how he's been made to feel right now, and the first person he wants to see, is Fury. To complain, of course.

However, when he finally opens the door to the modern, glass windowed meeting room, he doesn't like how Fury's not there.

"Look who it is."

Upon glancing over the occupants of the room, the Avengers have all gathered around a; yep, glass; table, in the centre. Some of them are pacing, some are sat waiting. They're missing the God of Thunder, however, and, much to Tony's pleasing, Loki's nowhere to be seen. Good.

The one that spoke was good old Captain America.

"Hey, America," Tony huffs, taking a few steps in the room. He's got the usual 'better than you' air to him, and despite them 'making friends' not long ago, there's still a degree of tension between them. Steve's not changed a bit. He's still got the combed blonde hair, glassy blue eyes, and the body of a God, and in a way, Tony's appreciative of that. At least some things don't change. He can rely on that, even if it is small. "You're not wearing your suit. I'm kind of uncomfortable right now."

Steve rolls his eyes, giving a short huff, however, it comes out a laugh. "Anytime you're uncomfortable, I'm happy." That only serves to make Tony grin ironically, before they're both cut in.

"Can you two… not?"

"Brucie!" Tony chants, clearly very excited to see his better friend, and ignores the hand Bruce extends forward, arms held out wide and encasing him in a hug. "Man, I have missed you. How's life in the Tower? Sorry I've not been there so much, s'been so busy down in Malibu…"

"Tony, it's fine," Bruce can only manage, still within Tony's crushing hug, before he wriggles slightly. "We're all busy, I guess. Can you maybe let me go now?"

"Oh, yeah, my fault," he says, and removes his arms from around his friend. He'd really rather stay and hug him more, though. Tony likes Bruce. He likes to let Bruce know that, whenever he can. Eyes twinkling at him, the billionaire's grin is wide and excitable, as it rarely is so with other people.

"Again, it's fine. We were all just waiting on you," Bruce smiles, indicating toward the table. A look back toward it, gives Tony yet another grin.

"Oh hey, it's Clint and Natasha," he points out.

The two master assassins are sat, on the opposite side of the table to Steve, and smile at him, Clint nodding his head in acknowledgement.

"Morning, Tony."

"Morning? It's morning?"

"Yes, it is. About 11:30. Let me guess; hangover?" Natasha says, a small smirk on her lips.

"Actually no. I was a good boy last night and didn't drink a thing."

"You were a good boy?" Steve retorts. "Stark, I didn't think you and 'good' went in the same sentence."

"Have you even figured out how to use a mobile phone yet, old man?"

"I'll figure that out when you stop being a self obsessed-"

"Whoa, hey, guys, come on. Let's not fight," Clint interrupts with. Both Tony and Steve are glaring at each other again. Well, their friendship lasted, huh?

"I'm not fighting. I'm defending myself from his unnecessary comment."

"Either way, if you two are like this now, I don't even wanna know what you're like in a week's time. Cut it out."

Now Clint's glaring at them both. Well, he speaks truth, and both of them know it. Steve settles further in his seat, and Tony opts to pull one out to sit on, away from both Clint and Natasha, and as far from Steve as he can manage.

"Honestly, you two are like a bickering couple," Natasha adds. She's instantly met with both Tony and Steve's glaring, but it serves to make her laugh. Clint's laughing, too. Even Bruce held in a chuckle. It's more than true.

"Don't even humour me," Tony sighs. "Where's Fury, by the way?"

"We don't know," Natasha informs. "He told us to meet here at 11:00, and it's been half an hour. We expected you'd be late, of course, but we didn't expect that of Director Fury. "

"Fury's late? What the Hell's he doing?"

"If we knew that, I don't think we'd be sat here, wondering why he was late."

"Rogers, if you're gonna be an ass about everything, you can just leave."

"Oh yeah? How about you-"

"Guys?" It's Bruce that interrupts them, now. "Again, can you not? This would do wonders for my… anger, issues."

That silences them both, then. One quick glance to Steve comes back positive. He's glaring at him. Oh, joy.

"I don't wanna share a room with him as I wait. I'm getting an iced coffee. Anyone want anything?"

"Yeah, a coffee for me, thanks," Steve asks.

"Yeah, not you."

"Tony!"

Clint looks completely done with both of them, at that point. "Just go get your iced coffee. We can get our own drinks."

"Yeah. Get your own drink," Tony mutters, to himself, however, as he stands, moving towards the door. He's quick to hurry from the room. Clearly, that wasn't the reception he wanted. If he'd have known they'd be this dysfunctional, he wouldn't have even walked in. What was it with Steve? Why was he being so much of an ass? He had no reason to. Maybe he was still pissy about being woken up from his hibernation gone wild? Either way, it seems totally uncalled for.

_This is gonna be forever, isn't it?_

* * *

"So are you two dating?"

"What?"

As Nick's now an hour late, and Tony's gone through three iced coffees, he's been sat for what seems like an age, in their company. In a fairness, they aren't bad people. Just Steve, seemingly on his period today. Figures.

So, to pass the time, Tony's been asking pointless questions. As he does. Bruce has been sat, rather patiently, actually, and Clint and Natasha haven't really moved all that much. They're both wearing leather jackets and jeans, and in fact, so is Steve, but both of the master assassins look… relatively tired.

"Like, are you two engaging in a secret love affair, type thing. You both look tired."

Clint scoffs, while Natasha rolls her eyes.

"Though I doubt you'll remember this, and just believe what you assumed anyway, we just flew in from Russia. We still have jobs to do, Tony, even if you don't."

"I'll have you know, I'm really very busy. Lot's and lots of hard work to be done."

He knows Natasha isn't buying it. No one is, really. Not even Bruce.

They all know something's up with him. Bruce was the first to gather that. Something has changed about Tony, and they're not sure what it is, but they do know, that he's been avoiding things. They assume it, because they're not stupid.

"Of course you do, Tony," Clint sighs.

"I do. Hey, America, what have you been up to recently?"

Steve's stood, now, staring at the city from the window, arms folded. He doesn't glance over his shoulder, however. "Trying to piece together a new life here, I guess."

"Oh. That's good."

"Yeah."

The silences in this room, Tony swears, are the most awkward things in history.

"I'm gonna grab another iced coffee."

* * *

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

"Tony, can you stop that?"

He's only banging his forehead against the desk.

"I am going to explode with lack of activity in here," Tony mutters, sitting back up in his seat. It's now been two hours since 11 o'clock, and Tony's wondering if Nick's coming at all. They all are.

"This is pointless," Steve sighs, tapping his finger on the glass. "Since when has Fury ever been this late to something?"

Tony scoffs. "Uh, since never."

"Then why don't we just go have something for lunch?" Bruce asks. "It feels like he's not coming at all."

"We have our orders, Bruce," Natasha resents. She looks just as tired with this as the rest of them. "We'll just have to follow them."

"And what if Bruce Is right? What if he's decided he's more busy elsewhere?" of course, Tony's going to find any way at all to get out of this.

"Do you really think he'd gather the Avengers, and then think something else is more important?" Steve half growls. "Something's happened to him."

"And what makes you so sure, America? You think you know what's gone down?"

"I'm not saying I know anything more than you do, Stark, but I'm being reasonable about this. You're not."

"Sorry, President Lincoln."

"For the love of God, will you two just-"

"You're going to have to excuse me for being late, people, but we have a crisis on our hands."

That was Nick, from the door. Everyone sighs, Tony's hand raises and he grumbles 'finally!', and no one looks impressed. "Crisis?" Natasha questions.

"The town of Taos in New Mexico has been wiped of all human life," Nick informs. Everyone stops, then. It's serious now. No more arguing.

"What? How?"

"We don't know, but we're positive that this is the same thing that's been kidnapping people. We just didn't anticipate it would be strong enough to wipe out an entire town. We're heading over there now. Helicopters are waiting to pick you all up, and they have weapons in each of them, including your suit, Captain. Tony, a word."

While the others bolt up and rush to the door to get on the helicopters, Tony frowns in concern. What's Nick up to now?

When they're gone, Nick closes the door after them, and moves to a seat, hands clamping on the back of it. He's still in his black leathers, still sporting that fetching eye patch, and boy, does he look serious.

"What's with the late entry, Fury?"

"I had a few issues to sort out with a certain person. Listen, Tony, I didn't want this to happen so soon, but I have no choice. Thor is in Taos right now, clearing the area of any entities he can find, but that comes at a cost."

If Tony's not already worked up about an entire town going awall, his tensions and anxieties are building again. Swallowing, the billionaire dismisses it. "Get to the point, Fury."

"Hello, boys."

_Fuck._

_Fuck fuck **fuck**._

"I must admit, I wasn't so pleased with the terms of this meeting," the smooth as silk voice purrs, laced with poison and intoxicating like wine. Tony doesn't want it to be true. He's not turning around, not for all the money in the world.

"Thor had to bring Loki along with him, but left him… her, with me."

"Oh yes he did, Director Fury," she-Loki hums, taking a few steps in the room. Nick looks uncomfortable, but it's not a patch on the emotions running through chocolate hues of Tony's. "How very unfortunate for you, to be stuck with me."

"Loki is in his female form to arouse fewer suspicion. He's still a wanted criminal on Earth, so at least no one will recognize him this way."

"And it's so good to be back here, if I may add. Hello, Stark. How am I finding you today?" She's moving to his side. He's gonna have to look at her in a minute, but Tony wishes he didn't have to.

"Peachy," he grits.

"We have to get to the helicopters, and stat. Loki, you're with Stark."

"What?!"

Loki grins, then, full, dark wine lips, curling into a malicious smile. "I am? Oh, wonderful. I did so wish to get to know him a little better."

"You can't be fucking serious?!"

She's in front of him, then. "I don't think Director Fury is lying, Tony."

The first thing Tony registers is the hair. Long, silken, and raven black, cascading to her shoulders, and slightly further, flicking up at the ends only a small amount. Her eyes are emerald, and clouded with smoky blacks and greens, subtle makeup, yet effective for who she is, and her skin is fair, free of blemishes or of redness. A black, button up shirt, sheer and soft, covers her torso, and underneath, a tight, black vest. Black leggings, and boots, with at least 6 inch heels on them, complete her more Earth style look, and Tony's not going to lie to himself. As a woman, Loki is… well, she's beautiful. She's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. He'd be an idiot to deny that. He's speechless.

Not to mention the pulsing blood in his ears, the turning of his stomach, and the quickening of his pulse, as his anxiety begins to peak.

"I am Lady Loki," she purrs.

It's all he remembers, before he blacks out.


End file.
